Page 11 of The Duelist for the Ton
“I permit you to indulge in your little fancies,” he said. “Your wounded soldiers, for instance.”
“I thought tending to the sick was an acceptable occupation for a lady. Or are we supposed to merely throw a handful of coins at a hospital and let others do the work to avoid sullying our own hands?”
“Are you visiting the hospital later?”
“Don’t feign an interest in my life, brother. It does not become you. But yes, I’m assisting Dr. McIver today.”
“That charlatan! His overly modern ideas are, I hear, a danger to the profession.”
“I suppose you heard that from Dr. Lucas?” Portia let out a mirthless laugh. “Hisidea of a cure is to cover the patient with leeches and be done with it, or to relieve a soldier of his limbs rather than use what little talent he has to treat an injury. Whereas Dr. McIver has written several papers on the treatment of fractures to ensure that young men are not maimed unnecessarily by those who profess to be experts in a field of which they understand very little.”
“I take it you’re championing your one-legged captain again?”
Portia bit her lip to suppress the rage swelling inside. “Captain Broom is a hero,” she said. “I doubtyouwould have acquitted yourself quite so well at Waterloo, whereas he—”
“Spare me your praise of Captain Broom,” Adam interrupted. “I fail to see how a man can be considered brave merely becausehe has one limb fewer than the rest of us. I only hope you’re not setting your cap at a man like that.”
“Stop it!” she cried. “He has more goodness and courage than the whole of your acquaintance put together. He has a fiancée, if you must know, and as soon as he returns to Yorkshire, they are to marry.”
“Assuming she still wants him.”
“Believe it or not, brother, not everyone is as shallow as you. Why wouldn’t his fiancée still wish to marry him? A loyal, dependable young man who risked his life to fulfil his duty to his country. Better that than a profligate duke who spends his days gaming and cavorting with whores.”
He set his teacup down with a clatter. Though she was likely to pay dearly for her taunt, it was a price worth paying for the pleasure of rattling him.
“And then there’s your other fancy,” he said. “Marksmanship is no occupation for a lady.”
Her stomach twisted in fear. Surely he didn’t know?
“Marksmanship?”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Archery, or whatever you call it.”
Portia’s heart rate settled and she suppressed a sigh of relief. “You have some skill with a bow, brother,” she said, “or are you permitted to practice that skill because of your sex? And there are plenty of archers among our acquaintance. Lady Thorpe, for one.”
He rolled his eyes. “That hoyden. Thorpe gives his wife too much freedom—”
“Which perhaps explains why she’s happier than most Society wives. Her husband is not a heartless blackguard and he does not keep her in chains. It is fortunate for her, then, that she did not marryyou.”
Portia’s brother rose to his feet, pushing his chair back, and she winced at the sound of wood scraping against wood.
He dropped his napkin on the table. “This conversation is over.”
“Why, because I have placed a mirror before your character and you dislike what you see?”
“No, because I’ve better things to occupy my time with than a discontented, sour-tempered female.”
“So you’re off to indulge in brandy at White’s to boast about your conquests and maybe compare notes on Mrs. Scarlet’s particular talents with the likes of Sir Heath Moss?”
His left eye twitched.
“Of course, brother,” she added, “like it or not,youwill have to enter into the marriage state one day and temper your excesses.”
He shrugged. “And?”
“Then perhaps you’ll know what it’s like to be imprisoned.”
“A man is only imprisoned in a marriage if he has the misfortune to fall in love with his wife.” He issued a bow, clicking his heels together. “I shall bid you good day.”
